Brigitte Gendron
For the first eighteen years of my life, I was content to stay situated in the same home I was raised in, anxious at even the thought of inevitably living somewhere else. Heightened by this was my attachment to my room, not only as a space of comfort and privacy, but as an emblem of sentimentality for my younger self. The years spent calling that room mine, the memories with friends and family, and the time I spent simply being alone in there added irreplaceable, immovable personal value, creating deep-seated discomfort at the prospect of having to live elsewhere.
Over the past three and a half years, however, I surprised myself. Not only are my living spaces unusually temporary, but I've discovered a comforting, almost innate practice that comes with the increased frequency of moving between them. In adorning my space with my traveling assortment of art and decorative embellishments, my collection carries with it the memories of each place it's turned into my home, allowing me to express myself as I am in the present rather than limiting myself by clinging to the past.
The pieces explore my memories of growing up in Maryland, the bittersweet nostalgia they evoke, and my newfound affinity for incorporating natural elements into my domestic environment. Using furniture pieces from both my home in Baltimore and my current apartment, I began with the skeleton of a hypothetical living space for me to inhabit. From there, I channeled the ritual of building my space into the installation process itself; organizing and mounting these works, making adjustments as I go, I followed the same instinct I have when building a space of respite, watching pieces organically support one another and staking my claim of comfort.